random scenarios i think up

walking home fantasy that will never happen

This was the last day of Sophomore year. I had fucking done it again. 

Am I not obvious enough that I like him? Obviously fucking not, because the whole year I talk to him and I think I drop hints that are subtle enough and he never picks up on them. At least, I think he doesn't. Because I'm too afraid to fucking ask. 

It had been like this freshman year. I walk to where my friends and I get picked up by the tennis courts. Those two friends, my best friend and another dude, started going out recently. Whoop-dee-fucking doo, now I am the third wheel with my only friend in the planet. Cheers, my dears. 

So, on this dandy little shitty side walk where there are only room for 2, I am either, now, because they have to magically walk side by side, in the front or in the back. And what do you know? Little Mr-I've loved-you-since-Freshman-year-my-name-is-spelt-with-two-L's-Halloween-with-your-dumb-cloud- costume waltzes past us in the opposite direction. 

Sometimes he smiles, does a dorky salute which I live for, says something like "Bye" where I reply with "Hi" because my brain does a flip into a volcano and spews my guts everywhere when I see his collideoscope eyes. 

This had been happening for too long. I have stopped him a few times to say some dumb shit, like "The Imagine Dragons album was really good, bye," and then went home, saw he posted on Instagram that "Dream" was his favorite off the album, and learned to play it on the piano. I did that with "A Sky Full of Stars", too, and did he pick up the hint? Probably not. And if he did- wouldn't he have GOTTEN IT? 

So it's the last day. I'm behind them. I look cute as hell, like I always do. 

I don't act like I fucking type, alright? I don't. Sometimes I speak that way, but I sure as fucking hell don't in front of him. God forbid. 

I cling onto my backpack strips and I see him with his blond hair messed up because he tried to gel it. It's adorable, and I want to guage my eyes out, because the more I realize I am so fucking in love with him, the more I realize I'm fat, dumb, and completely out of the question. Sort of. I actually hope I'm still in. But is there a question?  (<-- fucking enigma because I just asked one wtf)

I usually purse my lips and force a grin and hope my eyes fucking sparkle because I hate my smile. It's goofy and dumb and my top lip curves down weird. 

I open my mouth to say "Bye." I had already come to the conclusion that nothing special would happen, we wouldn't see each other, and that since I don't have his number, we wouldn't talk. I would go to liking all of his amazing art on his instagram and he not liking anything I post because he's too godly to assess himself with mortals. 

But- oh my god. 

He had a look etched on his face that I had never seen before. He almost looked pissed. 

He walks humbly, most of the time. Just kind of a hey-what's-goin-on stroll where he's just passing by. He was walking pretty fucking fast, which made me sad, because hey-now-there's-less-time-to-say-goodbye-but-not-even-say-goodbye-just-smile-and-wave-like-those-fucking-penguins

He sees me, and I get scared, of course, because here is this marvelous handsome guy that I can't bring myself to talk to on my own about what I feel because I've done that before and I really don't want to fuck it up with him. 

I've never been kissed. Did he know that? He could have guessed, by how I was horribly unprepared when he cradled me by my fucking head  and kissed the stars out of me. 

I didn't have time for "Oh, shit." I only had time for "Oh yes, about fucking time." 

I let the couple fucking walk off and stare, because I had waited for this for such a fucking long time. He is a Pisces. Where the fuck did this sudden surge of spontaneous kissing come from? 

I morped, I melted, I was gone like a popsicle like that fucking kid from Sky High who descends into goop on the floor. He smelled like rain and fresh paper, like leaves and chalk. His hands are the most beautiful hands I have ever laid eyes upon (besides Harry Styles's, because let's be real) and feeling them cradle my jaw and his calloused skin brush my cheek had me completely to his will. 

His plump lips were always slightly chapped, but so were mine. I always try and use chapstick. I just instantly go to pick at my lips or twist them when I'm nervous, worried, pensive, or watching him, which is all the fucking time. 

He lets go, okay? He is staring at my lips, which for a second makes me uncomfortable because I hate my lips, and then goes and says this:

"How long have I wanted to do that?" 

He almost says it to himself, as in an accomplishment. 

I always wonder what would have happened if he had read everything wrong, if I hadn't liked him and I had yelled, punched him, or thrown him away and made him highly embarrassed because he just assaulted me. But no, he is meticulous and thoughtful and intelligent and everything I hoped he would be. His black t-shirt is draped over his collarbones like a tapestry, a lazy tacked up tapestry. 

Everything went right. That feeling. Of just "fuck yes, fuckedy fucking fuuuuck yes this is happening, i love him, I like him so much and now we can be a c0uPLE and be the cute things I have always dreamed of, is this real?"

It is real, because I have actually had dreams before in that exact spot where he has asked me to go "get a melt" and "take a walk." and weird shit like that and I've woken up from those all too soon. This was fucking real, my friend.

I want the cars passing by and kids being picked up to have seen this. The look on his face. The look on mine.

My whole life has been "I want", "I wish", "I need", "I hope", "Someday."

Well, honey, I damn have it. This is now.